


The Things We Do For Love

by Moon_Disc



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29673672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon_Disc/pseuds/Moon_Disc
Summary: When Avon, Cally, Vila and Gan are left behind at a Federation base, they are faced with making some difficult decisions. Because some things are more important than money.
Relationships: Kerr Avon/Cally
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	The Things We Do For Love

“In here!” 

Alarms blaring, security forces on the hunt and the Liberator out of contact, Avon, Cally and Gan were running. Up ahead, Vila, made fleet-footed and nimble-fingered by fear, was gesturing for them to hurry. An open doorway gaped. He saw them coming and dashed inside. Avon was right on his heels. Gan followed. Cally was half a heartbeat behind.

It was a squash. A supply cupboard, lined with shelves and packed with neatly stacked boxes, just large enough for a single occupant, was offering shelter to four.

“You couldn’t have found a smaller room?” Avon criticised, as the crush rammed his shoulder up against a shelf.

“I didn’t have a lot of choice,” Vila retorted. “I might be a genius when it comes to picking locks, but Triple-A Class Federation security systems take time. This was the easiest. And the quickest. And it’s a good place to hide. No one’s going to be looking for us in here.”

“All in,” said Gan. 

He had had to raise his arms to allow Cally to squeeze past him. The door slid shut. An internal light switch spared them from having to stand in the dark. At the back, Cally found herself wedged up against Avon’s back with Vila in front smiling of her nervously. In the close confines, the sound of breathing was amplified, like the rasp of sawblades on wood. The temperature felt like it was already inching upwards.

“Well,” Vila said, licking beads of perspiration from his upper lip, “this is fun.”

“Keep your voice down,” muttered Avon.

Gan was trying to bring his arms down, forcing Avon to lean back against the shelves. He was pressed against Cally, who in turn was being pressed up against Vila.

“Sorry,” she said, as she stepped on his toes.

“That’s okay,” he said. “I’m not using them.”

“Are you all right?” she asked with concern. Vila had started to sweat so much the moisture was soaking through his clothes and onto hers.

“Yes.” He swallowed hard. “It’s just, erm, I’ve got this problem.”

“If it’s claustrophobia, you’re in the wrong place,” said Avon. He grunted in pain as Gan’s elbow jabbed him in the ribs. 

“I’m not at my best in enclosed places,” Vila admitted. 

“Or open spaces from what I hear,” said Gan in good humour.

Vila gave him a weak smile. “It’s the other thing I’m worried about.” He cleared his throat and tried to shift his weight. Cally found herself being shoved backwards. Gan tried to breathe in as the space constricted even more. “It’s a personal problem. It happens out of the blue. Usually when I see something. Or smell something. Or hear something.” He wetted his lips nervously. “Or... when someone stands close to me.”

Avon muttered something under his breath. “How old are you?”

“I can’t help it!” Vila protested. “It’s genetic! I’ve got a doctor’s note.”

“What, now?” said Gan. “Aren’t you scared, Vila?”

“Terrified. Doesn’t seem to work like that though.”

“And you’ve never thought to mention you've got this problem?”

“Well, it’s never come up before.” Vila pulled an apologetic face. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Cally, change places with me,” said Avon.

An awkward dance ensued, where Gan tried to suck in his stomach, Avon and Cally shuffled around each other and Vila ended up turning round and round until he was up against the wall face-first. When he tried to turn back, Avon stopped him.

“Stay there,” he said.

“I can’t!” Vila replied. He fought his way round and raised his head, gasping. “I’m suffocating.”

“We wouldn’t be that fortunate.” Avon suddenly twitched. “That had better be your hand, Vila.”

“Actually, it’s _my_ hand,” said Gan. “I’m trapped behind you.”

Avon leaned forward as much as he could as Gan struggled to extract his arm. “Sorry,” he said, as he caught the back of Avon’s head when he finally pulled himself free. “Not much room in here.”

“Really?” Avon muttered. “We hadn’t noticed.”

The silence hung. Gan’s stomach rumbled. Avon glared at him. 

“Sorry,” Gan said again. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten.”

“Blake rushed us out,” said Vila. “I didn’t get to eat either. Saying that...” He started fidgeting and tried to cross his legs. “How long do you think we’ll be in here?”

“If you need to go, Vila, it’s impossible,” Avon said severely.

Vila swallowed hard. “There’s a bottle up on that shelf. Can’t I–”

“No!”

“It’s all right for you. I’ve got a nervous bladder!”

“It goes well with the rest of you.”

“Blake won’t be long,” Cally tried to reassure him.

“I hope not,” said Vila. “I wouldn’t like to stay here forever.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Avon said. “They will find us eventually.”

“Then what?”

“Well now, these are the headquarters of the Interrogation Division.” He said it with relish, as the worry lines furrowed Vila’s brow into ever deeper ridges. “I imagine they are always in need of volunteers on whom to practice their skills.”

“They won’t get much out of me,” said Vila unhappily. “I don’t know anything.”

“Nor me,” said Gan. “Cally?”

She looked uncomfortable. “They will want to know where Blake has been.”

“They already know that,” said Vila. “Where he’s going, that would be better and who knows that but Blake?” said Vila. He poked Avon’s arm, making him flinch. “How about you?”

“Avon knows a lot about the Liberator,” said Gan. “That would interest them.”

Avon turned his face upwards and tried to draw a deep breath. His face was shining with sweat. The heat was becoming unbearable. “Information of that nature would be worth a great deal of money.”

“They wouldn’t pay you,” Gan scoffed. “Not if they can make you tell them.”

“And I bet they’ve got a few ways to make you do that,” said Vila. “Any hints?”

“Why do you want to know?” Avon asked.

“I like to know what I’m up against. I’ve never been interrogated before.”

“Never?” queried Gan.

“No. I’ve always been caught red-handed. What about you?”

“Wasn’t necessary. There were witnesses.”

“Oh.” Vila’s gaze shifted. “Cally?”

She dropped her eyes. “You know I have, Vila. It was not pleasant.”

“Is this going anywhere?” Avon snapped.

“Just making conversation.”

“Talk about something else.”

Vila’s eyebrows rose in speculation. Cally shook her head at him. He pretended he had not seen her. “You too?”

“I’m going to try the Liberator again,” Avon said, ignoring him. “Move, Vila, I need to bring my arm up.”

“I’ll do it,” said Cally. She manoeuvred her wrist up to her mouth, inches away from Avon’s chin. He turned his head sideways to give her a little more room and ended up with his nose almost in Vila’s ear. “Liberator. Come in, Liberator, this is Cally.” She tried again without success. “They must have run into a patrol.”

“Or Blake doesn’t want us back,” remarked Vila. “We didn’t find Hagel. That is why we came here, after all.”

“If Hagel was _ever_ here,” Avon said. “They probably killed him weeks ago.”

“Why wouldn’t they have used the information he had about the rebels in Sector Six by now?” asked Gan.

Avon gave him a dull look. “Why do you think?”

Gan shook his head, none the wiser.

“They were waiting to see if anyone came looking for him,” Cally explained. “It’s a trap.”

“And we have walked straight into it,” said Avon. The bitterness in his voice in part reflected the blame he was reserving for himself. “The Liberator too, in all probability.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Cally was emphatic. “They would have forced Blake and Jenna to contact us to flush us out if they had been captured.”

“More likely, they’ll use us as bait,” said Gan heavily. “I don’t like the idea of that.”

“You will like the alternative even less,” said Avon.

“You mean...?” Vila gulped. He was sweating again. “Interrogation?”

Avon’s features registered disgust at the damp spreading along his arm from close proximity to Vila’s chest. “Tell them whatever they want to know.”

“We can’t do that,” said Gan. “Blake is depending on us.”

“As you were depending on him?” Gan took the point and looked away. “In these situations, survival is all that matters. You wanted advice, Vila. Tell them everything. You will save yourself a great deal of pain and misery.”

“What about you?” Vila asked.

“The situation is not ideal. Interrogation is better managed alone.” Avon shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the pressure caused by three rows of shelves digging into his back and thighs. “That we are all here puts us at a disadvantage. They will select a target to manipulate the rest of us.”

Vila bristled. “You mean me. I can take pain, you know. I’ve lived with you long enough.”

His attempt at humour managed to raise a faint smile from Gan and Cally. 

Avon was unmoved. “No.” He was looking straight at Cally. His tone had become softer, almost apologetic. “Their methods tend to be predictable.”

“I will tell them nothing,” she said resolutely. “I shall be disappointed if you allow yourself to be swayed because of me.”

“We won’t stand by and let them hurt you,” said Vila. He looked to Gan and Avon for support. “Will we?”

“Of course not,” said Gan. “We’re all together in this. Aren’t we, Avon?”

“Yes.” His tone of voice was not entirely convincing. “Some of us more than others.”

“Eh?” said Vila.

“Because of what he knows,” Gan informed him. “Some things are more important than money though. Like friends. Isn’t that right, Avon?”

His gaze had never left Cally’s face. She smiled encouragingly at him. “Yes,” he said finally.

Vila kicked him. “Say it like you mean it.”

Avon winced and glared at him. “You are asking me for guarantees I cannot give. Once that door opens, once they take our teleport bracelets, we lose control of the situation.” He sighed unevenly. “We already have.”

“Then let’s go out fighting,” said Gan. “You have your weapons.”

“Oh, let’s not be hasty,” Vila said nervously. “I mean, Blake could get here any minute.”

“I agree,” said Cally. “We have to give him more time. Blake will return.”

Vila nodded furiously and was about to say something else when Avon suddenly clamped a hand over his mouth. “Troopers,” he hissed. 

In the silence of the cupboard, the sound of passing boots beat a staccato rhythm as a patrol tramped along the corridor. They drew level and continued on their way. 

Vila released a breathy chuckle. “I thought we’d had it that time. See, I told you we were safe in here.”

The door suddenly slid back. The barrels of several carbines peeped around the door frame. Their owners were keeping safely out of range.

“Out!” a stern voice ordered. “Hands in the air. Slowly. We will shoot to wound, not kill.”

Gan backed out, hands held shoulder high. Cally was about to step out, only for Avon to shake his head and indicate that Vila should go next, then him. Out in the corridor, a slim man with a beak-like nose in polished boots and neat Federation uniform was waiting with his hands clasped behind his back in an overt display of authority. A sardonic sneer twisted his mouth as he ran his eye over the assembled prisoners. Their weapons were taken and they were prodded into a rough line before him.

“I am Base Commander Kendron,” he announced. “You are Blake’s people.” He inclined his head slightly and smiled sickly. “Correction. You _were_ Blake’s people. Blake left you. You are now the property of the Federation. How does that feel?”

“He had his reasons for leaving,” said Cally.

“Yes, cowardice,” said Kendron, surveying her appreciatively. “You must be the Auron woman. I had the pleasure of interrogating one of your people recently. An exile, something like yourself. His name was Urien. Did you know him?” Cally nodded with difficulty. Satisfied he was achieving the desired effect, he continued. “Isolated from your collective consciousness, once we found his breaking point, he turned his mind to his human companions for support – and they all shared in his ‘experience’ with my finest interrogator. Quite extraordinary. We did make progress that day.” He grinned at her evident discomfort before switching his gaze to the others. “Which one of you is Kerr Avon?”

“He didn’t come with us today,” Vila blurted out.

Kendron’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s see. You must be the thief.” He turned to Gan. “The murderer.” Finally, he settled on Avon. “Then who is this?”

Avon opened his mouth only for Vila to speak. “A friend of ours. He came along to help. His name is... Nova.”

“Nova? Tsk. Avon backwards. Not very original.”

“That is one of his more redeeming qualities,” said Avon. 

“Ah, you do speak,” said Kendron with grim satisfaction. “That will be useful later when you tell us all you know about the Liberator.”

“What makes you think I know anything?”

Kendron approached and stood close enough for Avon to smell his foul breath. “Your record.” His gaze dropped to look his prisoner up and down and fixed on his wrist. He touched the teleport bracelet and turned it to examine the markings. “You worked on an aborted research project into matter transmission. And here you are with a fully functioning teleport system. How does it work?”

Avon gave an unconcerned shrug. “It’s complicated.”

Kendron snorted a soft laugh. “I’m sure. You’ll have plenty of time to tell us about it.” He glanced at Cally, an evil look in his eye. “Have you ever experienced a telepathic scream, Kerr Avon? All that pain and suffering compressed into a single moment. It drove one of Urien’s companions quite mad.” He licked his lips. “It would be a pity were that to happen to you.”

“I’m sure,” said Avon, “we can come to another arrangement.”

“No.” Kendron took a step back, crisp and authoritative once more. “You will watch while we find this telepath’s breaking point. And when she screams, you will scream and then you will co-operate.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m offering to co-operate now. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Nothing worthwhile was ever obtained that easily,” said the base commander dismissively. “The purest information is written in blood.” His head snapped round to where Vila and Gan stood. “Take these two down to Level Four. Major Lorrimor is waiting for them. No, leave their bracelets on. I want Blake to see what is left of his people when he comes crawling back to take them. I want him to know what is waiting for him.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Vila spluttered as a trooper took hold of his arm and tried to drag him away. The blood had drained from his face. “I don’t know anything!”

“I do not doubt it,” said Kendron. “However, our newer interrogators need the practice. As for these two.” He turned back to Avon and Cally. “They won’t be leaving for a long time. Remove their bracelets. Wait!” A sadistic smile curled his mouth. “Avon, _you_ will remove the woman’s bracelet.”

When Avon was slow to move, a trooper nudged him in the small of the back with his carbine. He started forward hesitantly, as though the revulsion at what he was having to do was making his feet stick to the floor. Cally lowered her wrist for him. His hand closed around the bracelet and stayed there.

“He can’t help you, telepath,” jeered Kendron.

“My name is Cally,” said she defiantly. “I will give you cause to remember me.”

He laughed. “As have said so many before you. Avon, the bracelet. Give it to me.”

Deliberately, Avon snapped it open. He stopped short of removing it from her wrist.

“It’s all right,” she reassured him in a low voice. “You tell them nothing, I want your word.”

“Oh, Cally,” he whispered. “Do not make me promise.”

He was still holding the bracelet in place. She covered his hands with hers. “Let me go.” 

He swallowed with difficulty. “Do not hold out. Reach for me. Let it be over quickly.”

“They will kill us once they have what they want.”

Avon nodded. “Rather that than...”

An alarm rang out. Surprised, the troopers reeled back in panic. Drowned out by the noise, Kendron was barking orders, too late, for Avon snapped the bracelet back in place around Cally’s wrist and the world dissolved around them. The familiar interior of the Liberator’s teleport room reasserted itself. Vila and Gan appeared beside them, both looking ashen but unharmed.

“We’ve got them,” Blake was shouting into the intercom. “Go, Jenna!” A growing hum from the main drives told that they were on their way. “Everyone all right?”

“What the hell was going on here?” Avon demanded, starting forward.

“A flotilla of pursuit ships,” Blake called over his shoulder as he took the steps two at a time. “They’re still out there. I need you all on the flight deck, now!”

“Now?” Vila said unsteadily. The ship rocked as the force wall absorbed a direct hit. “I thought we were in trouble there.”

“We were,” said Gan with a rueful smile. He took Vila by the arm and offered him his support. “Come on, let’s go and help Jenna and Blake.”

As the pair limped out, Cally approached Avon. “Thank you,” she said softly, “for what you tried to do.”

He removed his bracelet and thrust it into an empty slot on the console. “We should never have been in that situation.”

“I know. But we were. And... I appreciate it.”

“Well, as Gan said, some things are more important than money.”

“Some people too.”

She stayed at his side, staring up at him, until he was forced to look at her. The ship shook as it took another hit, but neither moved. 

“We should go and help them,” he said eventually. “Unless we want to end up back there.”

“If we do?”

“The same will always apply.”

She smiled up at him and patted him on the chest. “I know it, Avon. I just hope we never have to find out.”

**The End**


End file.
